


Disbelief

by KeyWolf25888



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Waiters & Waitresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 22:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyWolf25888/pseuds/KeyWolf25888
Summary: Steve faces his ultimate challenge - a generation who grew up using his name for him. People don't believe him when he tells them his name.More importantly, he has no idea if the cute waiter at the restaurant he's in knows who he is.





	Disbelief

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Writing fanfic that isn't kpop? *squints* sounds fake but okay
> 
> For real though, I don't know what this fic is - it went from 'haha wouldn't it be funny if people didn't believe steve was who he is' and then turned into... this??
> 
> This is my first fic for this fandom so it's probs pretty bad, dont judge me
> 
> Also i'm not american, another reason to not judge me, i did my best using your lingo

The first time it happened Steve thought it was a mistake.

He’d been sat in the living room of his apartment in Stark tower, doing his best to do something modern, normal, for once.

Dial tone playing in his ear, Steve was caught off guard. He blinked in surprise at his handset, having pulled it away from his head to see the screen return to his call log. Yup, the restaurant definitely just hung up on him.

What was even happening? Steve felt the odd urge to laugh – what other reaction could he have? He was 99% sure he had done everything right, he’d not mentioned that it would be a gathering of avengers or anything that might have sounded alarm bells in the head of the person he had spoken to.

At least, Sam had been the one to tell him what to do when Steve had insisted he be the one to organise this thing. Had he been messing with him this whole time? Or had he just forgotten to tell him something, like some sort of… secret password?

Shaking his head, he placed the phone down on the coffee table in front of him. He’d try again later.

Later that day, when he’d made his way (finally) into their common area, he was reminded of what had happened. It was fairly empty today, only Sam making himself a sandwich and Clint doing… something in the fridge (honestly by this point Steve knew better than to question Clint’s actions). Seeing Sam there had triggered the memory, and he walked over to him, certain that he would have some sort of explanation for him.

“Hey, Sam… um, I tried ringing up that restaurant you told me about earlier today,” he began, unsure how to approach the situation.

“Oh yeah? How’d it go?” Sam asked encouragingly. It felt a little patronising, but Steve chose to ignore that.

Steve sighed. “Not well… I didn’t even get to book the table properly. They cut me off half way through asking.”

Sam snorted. “Seriously? And you’re still determined to do it yourself?”

“Yes, asshole, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t do it myself.” Steve chuckled.

“Okay, but remember what Tony said about him being able to get us in anywhere you want,” Sam said pointedly. “To be honest I think he might actually just want to show off his ability to use his money… actually I don’t blame you for turning him down, sometimes it’s good to annoy him.”

Steve laughed. “True that. Tony needs to learn that throwing his money around doesn’t always get him everywhere.”

Plus Steve really needed to do this by himself.

Sam picked up his own food and made his way over to Steve. “Well I guess all you can do is try again? They’ll probably get it right tomorrow, yeah?” He suggested.

Shrugging, Steve said, “yeah, I don’t think I’m going to have much other choice. I can’t really be bothered again today, you know?”

Sam patted his shoulder, walking past him on his own way out of the room. “Sounds like a good plan, man. Let me know if you need any more help, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Sam left the room, and Steve was quick to get on with his original purpose for being in this room – making _himself_ food. Being a supersoldier left him with the appetite of three grown men, and it was important that he feed himself in good time (otherwise bad things would happen. Like passing out. Which he would never live down).

The restaurant could wait for now. After all, simple errors could easily be fixed, right?

**

The second time it happened Steve was less convinced that something accidental had happened.

It was a day after the first time, and he had spoken to others in that time - Natasha had confirmed for him that yeah, he’d done everything right, and she didn’t have a clue what he might have done.

Determined to try again, to get it right this time, he picked up his phone. It was still uncomfortable in his hand, the corners digging into his palm in a way which belied the fact that he still hadn’t quite got a handle on how to handle his phone.

Bringing up the number of the restaurant that had rebuffed him the day before, Steve took a breath, and dialled.

Swinging from side to side in his chair, Steve bit his lip as he waited for them to pick up. ‘ _Hi, I called yesterday about making a reservation at 17:30 on Friday next week? My name is Steve Rogers’_. He rehersed his lines in his head paranoidly.

The person who picked up the phone gave the same introduction that he had heard the previous day, sounding just as fakely cheerful. They even sounded bored, more so than the voice yesterday had. Steve felt almost bad for them – he was sure that they had to do this way too often every day. That was probably why yesterday’s call had cut off, he decided. Today it would be fine.

“Um, I called yesterday about making a reservation at 17: 30 for, uh, Friday next week?” It came out more like a question than he had intended, and he internally cursed his inability to control his words.

Fortunately the man on the other end of the line didn’t even seem to notice. “Sure, we have tables for then. How big is your party?” He asked the same questions that Steve had been asked yesterday, and he began to feel a little irritated. Why should he have had to tell the same restaurant the same information twice over?

Nevertheless, he had to answer the question. “Uuh… six.”

“Right,” a small pause, “and may I take your name?”

“Steve Rogers.”

The guy on the other end huffed. Steve’s confusion rose – what could be wrong with his _name_?

Steve frowned, gaze fixed on the tv without really seeing it, the vivid colours mixing and blending into a mess of light. It was playing a movie silently from where he had muted it after picking up his phone (a true blessing of an ability).

“Yeah fucking right.” The man on the other end’s tone had changed completely, no longer a polite customer service voice but instead sarcastic and mocking. “Have a good night, _Captain_.”

“Wh-“ it was too late, he had been hung up on again.

Slowly taking his phone away from his face, Steve slumped a little more in his chair. So much for acclimatising well to this new modern world.

What now?

**

The day after found Steve _still_ puzzling over what had happened.

The first time it had happened, he had been able to write it off as a simple mistake, as someone having a bad day and accidentally putting the phone down.

But twice? Twice was no accident.

These thoughts danced through his head on a loop – running was meant to clear the mind, but instead it had provided the perfect state of mind for him to obsess too much over his problems.

He didn’t even know why it was bothering him so much; he was well aware that it was such a small issue in the scale of… well, pretty much everything. It was more the principle of the thing – and the mystery of what had caused it in the first place.

Stumbling (and nearly falling) on a crack in the path, Steve realised just how much of his thoughts this was occupying. Tripping up wasn’t exactly a big deal for him (any scrapes would have healed long before they irritated him) but the embarrassment would sting a lot more. Even with a baseball cap on to attempt to hide his face, he was still very noticeable, as he was well aware.

Subtly taking a look around the park, at his immediate surroundings, Steve did his best to see whether anyone had noticed him nearly fall.

Fortunately there were few other people out in the park at this time (Steve enjoyed torturing himself by getting up to run as early as possible. It wasn’t always the most pleasant experience, but boy did it wake him up). A few other runners, a dog walker or two, but none nearby, thankfully.

Ignoring his near miss, pretending like it didn’t happen, he continued to run. This time he tried to quash down the thoughts which threatened to intrude in his brain, that wanted to remove his singular enjoyment of running and exercising in lieu of thinking about something which had only annoyed him.

Unlike he had done before, Steve made no effort to run as fast as possible.

Sure, sometimes it could be fun to test his limits, to push himself and make sure that he was still up to spec. But that wasn’t the case every single time; sometimes it was nicer to go slower, to enjoy the scenery.

He ran in and out of trees, passing green spaces and muddy less than green spaces. It was peaceful – something that he found could be rare to come by in this day and age.

At least, it was peaceful while he was away from others.

The more he ran, the closer he got to the more populated areas of the park. That meant that he got closer to the people, too – his least favourite part of his run. No matter how he tried to disguise himself – hats, sunglasses, masks, hoodies – he got stared at without exception.

Often he couldn’t even be sure of their reasons for staring. Some stared because he was good looking, some because they knew who he was, some because they only thought he resembled Captain America, national hero. Occasionally he could tell who was staring for which reason, but it wasn’t an exact science.

No matter the reason, it was just as uncomfortable every time.

There had even been one memorable occasion when a young boy had asked him for an autograph. If he had thought he got a lot of uncomfortable attention before then, he sure hadn’t been prepared to deal with the crowd that had formed once people had got wind that Captain American was signing autographs there. PR had had a field day trying to get him out of that one.

When the stares got too much (that was usually when he was able to see them whispering about him) he gave up on exercising for now, and made his way to the nearest Starbucks. Something that he definitely appreciated about the modern world was the ease of cheap, easily accessible, okay coffee.

Pulling his hat further down his face in an attempt to cover himself a little better, Steve made his way out of the park and onto the streets.

It was easier to be ignored when he wasn’t showing off. In amongst the crowds on the streets, Steve felt much more anonymous, getting no more than a few leery looks that made him more than a little uncomfortable.

Pushing open the door to his usual Starbucks, Steve prepared himself to wait in line.

Surprisingly the line wasn’t too long today, and there was only a wait of a couple of minutes before Steve was up.

“Hi, can I get a grande iced coffee to go?” He said as he was asked what he wanted. The words still felt foreign in his mouth, even after months of saying them every few days.

The barista serving him looked bored to death with what she was doing, which like, fair. Steve had had plenty of experience with customer service roles like this before the war, and he honestly resonated with that mindset on a molecular level.

“Sure, can I take your name?” She asked, tone as bored as it was before.

This question somehow caught Steve off guard every time – he fought a constant dilemma of the instinct to give his real name versus the common sense to make one up. Most days he managed to think of a fake name to give quickly enough to not look like he was a bit crazy, but today was not one of those days.

His mouth said, “Steve Rogers,” without his permission.

As soon as his mouth caught up with his brain, he had to fight down the urge to blush from embarrassment – now that really would give the whole game away.

Not that giving his real name had ever had a particularly adverse effect – it wasn’t exactly unconventional, it wasn’t impossible that people other than him could have that name.

But coupled with his body? It would definitely arouse suspicion, if nothing else. Fortunately he’d not had anything bad happen to him because of it, but it always paid to be careful.

He watched nervously as the girl narrowed her eyes, squinting at him angrily.

“Can we not fucking do this?” She said.

Steve’s heart dropped. Oh god, what had he done? “Wha…” was all he managed to say, too confused to form proper sentences.

She snorted exasperatedly. “I can’t deal with this shit,” she whispered, probably to herself. Then, louder, “you’re not fucking Captain America, so give me a proper name.”

“I – “ Steve’s instinct was to deny it, to prove that that was in fact his real name. His hand almost twitched towards his wallet, where his ID lay – and then he realised that really that wasn’t the best solution here.

Instead Steve gave the first name that came to mind. “Tony,” he muttered.

The girl nodded, placated. After Steve paid, she went about making the drink, and Steve shuffled along to the waiting area.

He just couldn’t stop going over what had just happened in his mind. He had never had someone completely shut him down like that over his identity – usually either people didn’t put two and two together, or they believed it entirely and asked for autographs. This really had been a one off.

**

Admitting defeat had never been easy. Not when he had been in the war, not when he’d fought with anyone, even when he was still small and had no chance of winning either way.

It was especially humiliating to admit that there was a good chance he might get reported to the police for harassment if he called the restaurant again and they thought he was pretending to be Captain America.

“I still think you should have got Tony to do it in the first place. He has way too much sway, all he would have had to do was drop his name and they would bow to our every wish,” Sam suggested.

“It’s not the same though!” Steve exclaimed.

Wait, maybe he was getting too invested in this. It was only a dinner out, after all. It probably didn’t matter too much in the long run.

That didn’t stop it from irritating him though.

“Well, maybe not, but it still doesn’t matter too much who books the table,” Sam pointed out. “Plus it’s getting kinda close to Friday, don’t you think it really needs to get done?”

“Yeah, I know…” Steve trailed off. The incident from that morning popped suddenly into his head, and Steve was filled with the urge to tell Sam about it. He’d probably get a good laugh out of it if nothing else. “So earlier I was in Starbucks, and it was the weirdest experience I’ve ever had in your time so far,” he said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

He hummed. “The barista in the store ended up telling me that I wasn’t Captain America.”

Silence, for a brief second.

Then Sam burst out laughing. “For real? She said that to you? _You_?”

“I know.” Steve grinned. “She was so adamant about it too.”

“Wait, wait, how did you even get onto that kind of conversation? How does something like that even start?”

“I don’t even… Like, all I did was accidentally give her my name, but nobody has ever accused me of faking being Captain America before because of it.” Steve shrugged. “It was really weird.”

“Shit, it does sound weird.” Sam shook his head disbelievingly. “Has she even seen you? Like, even if she thought you weren’t Cap, wouldn’t she still think it was kinda believable?”

“Who even knows….” Steve mused.

Sam continued to laugh hysterically while Steve pouted. “I just can’t believe that you _really_ couldn’t get them to believe you were _who you are_?”

He sighed. “I know… it was the worst. I mean, what could I have done?”

“Okay, you have a point… still though, she really didn’t recognise you when you look like _that_?” Sam gestured to Steve’s body. It took him a second to realise that he meant his muscles, and he blushed a little.

Steve tried to shrug nonchalantly. “I guess not.”

It had taken Steve this whole conversation to work up to letting go of his principles like this. Using all of the bravery in his body, he said, “honestly, Sam, I think kinda need you to make the booking for the restaurant for me, because I really don’t think it’s going to happen if I try again.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Sam nodded.

Steve sighed. “I really did want to do it myself though. Like, it shouldn’t have been hard at all?”

It wasn’t a lie, but he couldn’t admit that it sort of made him feel like he couldn’t do anything by himself. Even though he wasn’t army any more, he still had so much of his life controlled by other people. He really would have thought that such an small thing could be accomplished easily, but apparently not. It made him feel like there was literally nothing he could do by himself.

“That’s true… I guess you just can’t predict what people will do, huh?” Sam commented.

Steve rubbed his face with his hands. “I know, I know… It shouldn’t matter who books it in the end, I suppose. Hopefully.”

“I’ll do it later. What time is it for again?”

“Half five.”

“Sure thing.” Sam stood up. “Do you think if I tell them I’m the falcon it’ll get us preferential treatment?”

“Fuck you, man.”

**

Steve felt a weird kind of vindication as he strolled into the restaurant on Friday.

The others were already there; he was actually a little late. (He had had an issue with his motorcycle not starting that had delayed him without him even realising it. Not that he had had much other choice but to fix it at the time, since everyone else had already set off.)

Tapping his foot nervously as he waited for the server to come collect him, he wondered if maybe he should have texted them to say that he was going to be late. He constantly forgot that that was an option now, that if he was having issues getting there he could in fact reach them just about anywhere (with signal).

The restaurant seemed fairly busy, which was pretty much the only reason Steve was forgiving them for being so slow at realising he was there. Okay, that made him sound way more impatient than he actually was, but he really was running late and would appreciate it if someone would –

Oh, finally, a server was making his way towards Steve.

An attractive server.

Subconsciously Steve felt himself straightening up a little, and tugged on his suit jacket to get rid of any creases.

As the server got closer and closer, Steve could more and more clearly see that he was going to have a very hard time interacting with this man. He had long-ish hair that was tied back into a bun, and a few day’s worth of stubble. Him being up closer meant that Steve could see his eyes, which were a piercing shade of blue, and was it weird if Steve couldn’t stop looking into them? Yep, it was definitely weird, and oh god he was right in front of him now.

“Can I help you sir?” The server asked politely, with a nice but completely fake looking smile. He sounded just about as done with his job as the girl from Starbucks the other day though, and it amazed Steve that two people in such different establishments could feel the same way about their jobs. There was something very familiar about it, and Steve brushed it off as being just that similarity that he held with Starbucks girl.

He coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Um, yeah, my friends are already here? It should be under the name of Wilson?”

For some reason, at the sound of his voice the server (Steve took the opportunity to sneak a peek at his name badge; it read ‘James’) startled, taking a step back and his eyes widening. Had the man recognised him? It wasn’t beyond the bounds of reason, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had recognised him once they’d heard his voice. For some reason that seemed to be more distinctive than his body, which you would think would be much more instantly recognisable.

Coughing, presumably to cover up his foolish reaction, James busied himself with checking the computer that sat on the podium between them.

“Yeah, your friends are at table 29. If you’ll follow me I’ll take you to them.” His voice sounded much the same as before – albeit with a slight tremor that hadn’t been there before, which Steve took as a sign of nerves.

Still, he was able to walk calmly and confidently through the restaurant, weaving in and out of tables and generally making Steve feel like he was walking through a maze. Of all the times he felt self-conscious about his size, it was these – the part of his brain which still sort of believed that he was five foot four and skinny as a twig saw gaps between chairs that he should have been able to fit through, before common sense kicked in and forced him to accept that no, his bulk definitely couldn’t fit.

Fortunately it didn’t take them that long to find the others – Steve could spot Natasha’s hair from across the whole restaurant; like a beacon, it called to him.

As they walked, Steve couldn’t help but ponder over the familiarity he had noticed in the server’s voice. How could it have possibly been familiar to him though? He didn’t think he recognised anything else about the man, and it wasn’t like he’d been here for long enough to have people he knew from before more than a year ago. Unless Steve had known his grandparents? It was entirely possible and would explain why he didn’t completely recognise him, and –

Steve was drawn out of his thought spiral by the clearing of throats. Blushing as he realised that he had completely zoned out, despite them having reached the table already.

Avoiding acknowledging his weirdness, Steve quickly slipped into the booth that the others were sharing and gave a dismissive smile to the server.

He had hoped that that would work to get rid of the embarrassment he was feeling.

Instead, he could see the way James’ eyes had widened, the way his head moved from person to person, the slight tremor he could see in his hand.

It was probably Tony.

It was always Tony that people recognised first. Sometimes they put the pieces together and figured out who the rest of them were. Sometimes they didn’t.

James’ eyes were already narrowing, moving his expression from surprised to suspicious.

Well if he hadn’t made the connection then Steve wasn’t going to complain – it was one less autograph to sign, one less picture to take.

Plus if he let every customer in the restaurant know they were there they’d never get to eat in peace.

Nevertheless, regardless of what he might be thinking, he handed Steve a menu and bid them goodbye.

As soon as he did, all eyes turned on Steve.

Choosing to ignore what they might be staring at him for, he gave them a wry smile. “Sorry I’m late guys. My bike was acting up before I left and I had to fix it up to get here.”

Some level of understanding dawned on them. “Do you need me to take a look at it?” Tony asked.

Steve shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine, it’s all fixed now. But thank you.”

Sam, who was sat next to him, nudged him as the others broke off into their own conversations. “Hey, you seem a bit shaken. You okay?”

His eyes were kind, and Steve knew that he meant well. Not that that helped Steve feel any better about things.

Scanning over the menu he held, Steve mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Keeping his eyes mostly on the menu, Steve actively avoided the conversation going on around him – at least, he tried to. Sometimes the conversation strayed into talking about Avengers strategy in hushed tones, and he occasionally butted in his own ideas when he thought it was necessary.

A few times Steve found his eyes wandering around the restaurant, and if his heart sped up a little whenever he spotted a particular server… well, maybe it was just a coincidence.

Eventually, when he’d read over the menu enough times to have memorised the entire thing, Steve put it down and tried to look as though he was part of the rest of the gang.

If he looked at them, it would look like he was paying attention, right? Even if… he kept looking at other places… like the kitchen door…

For the fifth time, Steve realised that his eyes were focussed on the wall behind them instead of his friends. He did his best to retrain himself on tony, who was still talking about… whatever it was he had been saying. Something about another invention?

Slowly Steve realised that his eyes were unfocussed, blurring his view of Tony and Bruce.

For a while he thought that he was paying attention, even as his thoughts wandered _. He needed to do his laundry tomorrow… there were just too many bloodstains to keep putting it off for any longer. Oh, and there was that mission that went wrong the other day… sure it hadn’t gone that wrong, but he did need to review the –_

Sam coughed beside him. Jumping in his seat slight, Steve side eyed him. What was he doing?

Oh. Right. Sam was staring at him, making eyes to convey… something? Steve shrugged at him, and Sam rolled his eyes. Shuffling closer, he whispered, “are you okay?”

Shit, clearly Sam had noticed how zoned out Steve had been for the past while. Shrugging and nodding at the same time, Steve tried to seem calm about the whole thing.

Okay, so maybe he was failing and maybe everyone kept giving him weird looks. He couldn’t help it, okay? Several times he had to tell Sam that yes, he was just fine, there was nothing wrong.

The fact that his friends were concerned about his wellbeing was definitely appreciated – but not ten times in the space of 15 minutes, it just wasn’t necessary.

Sooner than Steve might have liked, James returned to their table.

On the outside he looked just as put together as he had been the first time they saw one another. But Steve couldn’t help but suspect that he perhaps was a little more frazzled than he appeared – although perhaps that was simply wishful thinking.

Perhaps it was Steve’s imagination, but he wanted to read maybe more than there was into the fact that James chose to go from the other side of the table first, leaving Steve ‘til last and avoiding looking at him. Of course, it could simply be that he was doing his job and it didn’t mean anything more.

Unfortunately that didn’t stop Steve’s idiot brain from conspiring that maybe it was all a big thing, and –

No.

Okay, maybe Steve wasn’t imagining the way that James’ eyes grew wider and more panicked when he turned to Steve after slowly taking the others’ orders.

Honestly it was a good job that Steve had definitively already decided what he was getting, because he’d have forgotten it entirely otherwise the moment James’ eyes landed on him.

They were impossible to read – Steve could see the mild panic there, but he couldn’t guess what the reason for said panic was. Had he guessed who Steve was? Or was he just intimidated by his build? He had no idea.

Still, he was able to keep professional as he spoke to Steve. “And you?”

Steve rattled off his pre-memorised order, barely paying attention to what he was saying.

The entire time, James avoided eye contact with him, staring down at his pad and only glancing up at Steve a couple of times.

It was ever so slightly uncomfortable – and yet Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t find it a little tempting to keep looking up at James. Not in a weird way, just… something about him was enticing.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach the moment James left the table to go back to the kitchen. Not because of James directly, no – but because he knew full well that the rest of the gang would be ready to analyse every moment of that interaction.

It was actually slightly unnerving to look up and see every other person at the table turned to look at you. Part of Steve was convinced that they had practiced doing this sort of thing just to fuck with him (and he really wouldn’t have been surprised if they actually had).

Shifting under the uncomfortable pressure of having all eyes on him, Steve floundered a little. “What?” He eventually said. There was little more else to say – and perhaps it actually made things worse.

(Steve might have got used to the eyes of the masses being on him during the war, but close up like this? Especially when they wanted something particular from him? It was fully a recipe for disaster.)

Yeah, they had definitely practiced this, and as each of them adopted the same smirk Steve grew all the more concerned. Shit, what was coming his way?

“What was with that server, Steve?” Natasha was the first to speak. That probably wasn’t a good sign.

Aiming to be casual about the whole thing (Steve had learned the hard way to not give too much away to Natasha) he shrugged. “How should I know what someone else is thinking? Maybe he was just having an off day.”

Steve didn’t believe a word coming out of his own mouth, and judging by the judgy looks everyone else was giving him, neither did any of his friends.

“He didn’t look ‘off’, he looked infatuated, Steve,” Natasha said matter of factly. “What did you do to the poor boy?”

Steve gasped. “I didn’t do anything, and I don’t like what you’re insinuating!”

The raised eyebrows told him that he maybe hadn’t handled that in the best way.

“We’re not insinuating anything, Steve-“ (“I am!” Interjected Tony, but nobody paid it any attention.) “-but it did seem a bit suspicious, that’s all.”

They kept this up for the next… however long it was until their food was arrived. As far as Steve was concerned, it felt like an age, putting up with repeats of the same comments about him and James. Some of them were more on the mark than others, with some making Steve drop his head into his hands in embarrassment.

Fortunately though, as soon as everyone got wind that the food was arriving, they piped down.

As James wobbled his way over to their table, laden down with plates of food, Steve noticed the way that he almost exclusively kept his eyes on Steve (or at least, only when he thought Steve wasn’t looking).

Even as he approached the table, and began doling out the food, Steve picked up on the way that James kept looking over to him with an odd expression on his face. He could have sworn that a couple of times plates were nearly dropped because he wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing. That… probably wasn’t a good thing.

It was difficult to follow James’ gaze exactly, given that Steve was his target, but at certain points it seemed as though Steve’s muscles were what James was looking at. He couldn’t be completely sure, but he would also be lying if he said that he didn’t flex a little while he thought James was looking.

By the time James finished up – giving Steve one long parting glance which he couldn’t decipher – Steve was well aware that the rest of the table had noticed what had been going on. The moment James was out of earshot, the torture began.

“Look, Steve’s made a friend,” Tony said teasingly.

Glaring did nothing to stop the others from hopping on that bandwagon. Various comments about how Steve needed new friends, about how it must be because he was still adapting to the time, how he couldn’t hole himself up in the tower any more if he had other friends were bandied about.

It was all in good spirits, and Steve didn’t mind too much… although he did mind the idea that James might hear them being idiots and take it the wrong way. That would be a literal nightmare.

Soon enough though, everyone’s attention turned to the food in front of them, it being prioritised over making fun of him.

Steve was glad for the fact that eating meant he couldn’t be teased any more. Pretty much everyone at the table was known to eat quickly – even without supersoldier metabolism, Natasha could pack it away…. Somewhere, Steve wasn’t even sure how it all fitted inside her, as he watched her steal mouthfuls from everyone else’s plates.

While Steve was sure that the food was delicious – he certainly wasn’t spitting it out – he barely tasted it. Try as he might, his concentration simply was not on the food in front of him. Instead, he found himself scanning the restaurant for a glimpse of James again, and failing.

When a different server came to clear their plates and hand them the check, Steve was sure that something was up – something in the way he had acted had driven James off. He was slightly saddened by the thought. It was never good to make someone else feel like they had to avoid you.

They didn’t hang around after everything was handled, and Tony paid the bill (at his own insistence). After all, when they were all going back to the same place, it didn’t seem necessary.

Steve was well on his way out the door by the time it happened.

His motorcycle was parked further away than everyone else’s transport, forcing him to say goodbye to them in advance and part ways, even though they were heading towards the destination.

Despite the overall weird aura of the meal, Steve had actually had a good time. Casual, relaxed time with his friends was rare, and so he was going to make the most of it when it did happen. It could only ever be a good thing (apart from the time they had been eating together and there had been a ~~small~~ big attack and they’d had to hurry to get ready for it. But those were rare circumstances, really), and Steve truly enjoyed them every time.

But perhaps this time his thoughts were less on the good time he had just had with his friends, and more on the server with the intriguing eyes. Something about him made Steve want to get to know him better… especially since he seem so mysteriously familiar. Every time he had spoken, Steve had been reminded of… something, of which he still wasn’t sure.

So lost in his thoughts, Steve didn’t notice someone sneaking up behind him. Or, maybe they hadn’t snuck, perhaps Steve had simply been too distracted.

Either way, Steve flinched, spinning around and glaring at the person behind him.

A small squeak from the stranger brought Steve back to himself. James looked absolutely petrified, whites of the eyes showing as he leaned away from Steve.

Immediately Steve was mortified. Taking a step back, he began to apologise. “James! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

James still seemed suspicious, but relaxed a little. “Hey, uh, I didn’t mean to startle you…”

“That’s okay.” Steve smiled at him, hoping that it actually _would_ be okay.

For a moment there was only silence. James’ eyes flicked to Steve and away, and kept breathing as though he were about to speak. Steve was almost certain that James had something in mind, and he was definitely curious about what that might be.

Willingly, Steve stayed in place. It was dark out though, and slightly chilly. It made Steve glad he was already wearing a jacket – although it also made him feel a little bad for James. The server was dressed only in his uniform, and Steve could see the Goosebumps forming on his arms as he shivered in the breeze.

“Um… look, I was just wondering if I could have your number?” James seemed extremely nervous to ask it, and it would be adorable if Steve wasn’t just as nervous.

“Sure.”

They stood there in silence for a second. Steve took the opportunity to awkwardly look at James’ legs (admittedly, they were nice legs).

Suddenly, James was a flurry of movement. Steve snapped his head up to see what was going on – James was patting each of his pockets, looking increasingly concerned. _“Where is it… I was sure I put it in here… Shit, did I really…?”_

Movement ceasing, James smiled apologetically at Steve. “So it would appear I left my phone inside,” he said. Looking down, he pulled out a small book. “Ah-ha!” He brandished it – his servers notebook. Holding it out to Steve, along with his pen, he added, “you can write your number in here, I guess?”

Well, it was certainly a place to write things down. Taking the notebook and pen, Steve gladly wrote his number down, checking it over twice just in case. Signing it ‘-Steve’ underneath, he handed it back over, hoping the darkness would cover the way his hands trembled (jeez, he was stupidly nervous).

James looked at what Steve had written.

“Steve, huh?” He looked at Steve with discerning eyes. For a second Steve was sure that it meant that James knew exactly who he was, that he was about to get outed to the entire world.

But James merely tucked his notebook back into his pocket, and gave Steve another smile.

“Um… So I’ll text you about going on a date, maybe? I mean, you don’t have to, but I just thought that…” James began to ramble, and Steve nodded in agreement, to stop him worrying.

“James, I’d love to go on a date with you,” he said firmly.

The look of relief on James’ face was wonderful. “Oh, that’s… that’s great,” he sighed. It was such a normal, human look that it made Steve sure that James had no idea who he was. “I’ll talk to you later?”

Steve nodded. “Sure.”

James turned around to leave, took a step back towards the restaurant, and then hesitated. Wondering what more James could have to say, Steve waited for him to come out with it. When James turned back around, he seemed a lot more confident – in itself knocking Steve’s confidence that James didn’t know exactly whom he had just asked on a date.

“By the way,” James said. “Call me Bucky.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how good this is or isn't, pls be gentle
> 
> If it is any good i might do a second part, idk
> 
> feel free to follow me on twitter @Alltheaus or on tumblr @whatevenisthisbloganymore


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